


Everything You Could Want

by Mercurians



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gay Uncle Saeran, M/M, Second half is porn but first half is just two boys very in love, Smut, Top Yoosung
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-10-06 03:30:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10324643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mercurians/pseuds/Mercurians
Summary: The biggest day of Yoosung's life, for two reasons.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [6am](https://archiveofourown.org/users/6am/gifts).



> This fic takes place in the same canon as my old multichapter Yooran fic, Lately You're The Only Human I Believe In, but you don't need to read that to understand what's going on here. Consider this a bonus one shot! I've wanted to write it for a very long time.
> 
> Also this fic is dedicated to my darling friend Six (6am), whose birthday was yesterday. Have you read Six's fics, Dumpster Diving and Bits & Pieces? One is the best Yooran fic that exists, and the other is maybe my very favorite MysMe fic overall. They are both truly amazing, and I'm so lucky to have such a talented and smart friend. Happy Birthday, Six! <3

Saeran decided that, for a group centered on parties, this was the closest thing to a _real_ party the RFA had ever thrown. It was nothing like the massive, formal charity events the organization existed for, and it was also different from the weird little get-togethers they hosted, almost impromptu, about once a month. This was a _party_ , like the kind you see on TV. There was a cake, snacks, music playing, and even some light decorations around the Choi household. There were invited guests. Just the RFA members and Yoosung’s immediate family, but they still counted. It was still a mass of people, not all acquainted, socializing in the same house.

And, most importantly, there was a special occasion. A cause for their celebration. Saeran glanced across the room, where Yoosung stood against the wall, chatting with his older sister. He’d changed out of his graduation garb, but he was still looking a bit formal in a white button-down shirt and slacks. And he looked happy, too, as happy as anyone should look after earning their Ph.D a full year ahead of schedule.

 _This_ was a real party. Saeran wasn’t sure how much he liked it.

“Guncle!”

Saeran’s attention was pulled away from his boyfriend’s face when two sets of tiny arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him from his seated position on the living room floor and onto his side. He laid prone, pushed down by a pair of twin redheaded toddlers. At over a year old, they were getting much bigger and much heavier. That became most apparent in moments like these, when they chose to use their dear uncle as a jungle gym. Saeran could’ve pushed them off with some effort, but instead he allowed the twins to use him as grounds for their wrestling match, an indifferent expression settled on his face.

“Am I good to climb on or something?” he inquired.

The boys responded only in babbled words, some of which sounded roughly like “Guncle.” Somehow this was the nickname they’d settled on for Saeran. He would’ve preferred to just be called “Saeran,” but MC coached the boys to say “Uncle Saeran,” and Saeyoung lengthened it to “ _Gay_ Uncle Saeran.” None of this was pronounceable to a one-year-old, but in the end Saeran became “Guncle.”

Saeran watched the party from the back of the living room through half-lidded eyes. When a tiny foot pressed down on Saeran’s cheek, MC appeared to rescue him.

“Boys! Leave your uncle alone!” Saeran watched a pair of legs approach, felt the weight of two one-year-olds lift from his torso. When he looked up, MC was holding the twins in her arms with more than a little difficulty. “I’m sorry, Saeran,” she said, trying to adjust her arms around the wiggling toddlers. “They don’t understand how to play nicely yet.”

“It’s okay.” Saeran moved into a seated position and rested his back against the wall. “I didn’t really mind.”

MC tilted her head. “Are you okay? The party’s not bothering you, is it?”

“No.” Saeran’s eyes moved around the room, at the overwhelming crowd of people chattering and laughing and looming in this giant cluster. “I’m okay,” he said. It wasn’t exactly a lie. For the moment, he felt fine, still exhausted but not overwhelmed. Still, he knew that so much as loud noise or an unexpected conversation could push him into more dangerous territory.

“Do you want to go to your room?” MC offered. “You know Yoosung wouldn’t mind. You should rest.”

“Maybe,” he said. Saeran curled his legs against his chest, unable to concentrate hard on the decision. His little space in the back of the room felt comfortable. He liked the dim lighting, the feeling of his back against the wall. For the moment, he couldn’t think about moving.

“Okay.... Let me know if you need anything.” With a reassuring smile, MC headed back into the fray.

Saeran closed his eyes.

Yoosung wouldn't mind if he went to the other room. That much was true. The party would go on, the graduate would keep socializing, at some point he'd visit Saeran with a slice of cake and a kiss. But Saeran didn't want that, not if he could help it. He wanted to be more than that. If sitting here in the back of the living room like a hermit was the closest he could get to being the ideal supportive boyfriend, then that's what he'd do.

Saeran took a slow inhale, a slow exhale. The chatter was kind of soothing, if he didn't focus too hard on it.

“Sleeping at my party?”

Saeran was already smiling as his eyes fluttered open, gaze resting on Yoosung’s face in front of him. Yoosung kneeled almost at eye level with Saeran. Backlit by the overhead light across the room, his wispy blonde hair looked like sunlight, and his smile was even warmer. Saeran grinned lazily, feeling a heat building in his stomach.

“Not sleeping,” he said. “Just resting my eyes.”

Yoosung hummed a sound of interest. “Gotcha.” He put a hand on Saeran’s shoulder, ran it down his arm until catching his boyfriend’s fingers in his grasp, tugging gently. “Come on, I’m here to rescue you.”

“Rescue me?” Saeran cocked an eyebrow, but he was already rising off of the floor.

“You look a little overwhelmed,” Yoosung said, helping Saeran onto his feet. “I thought maybe we could go for a walk together.”

“A walk. You’re ditching your own party?”

Yoosung smiled wide, taking hold of both of Saeran’s hands. “That’s right. We’re gonna be rebels today.”

Laughing softly, Saeran ducked his head. “Dork. You expect them to just let us leave?”

“Nope,” Yoosung said. “I cooked up a master plan.”

“Hm?”

And then, as if on cue, a high-pitched scream sounded from the kitchen. The entire room fell silent, every guest turning toward the noise, and Saeran would have been panicking were Yoosung not pushing him toward the door and whispering that this was their signal. The same voice, which Saeran could now identify as Yoosung’s sister, was yelling something about seeing a rat as Yoosung opened the front door, nudged Saeran toward the stairs, and let it shut softly behind them.

“We’re out,” Yoosung said. “You okay?”

Saeran blinked, processing the question. “Y-yeah....”

“Sorry about the scream.” Yoosung approached his boyfriend with outstretched arms, placing one on his shoulder and the other on his lower back, rubbing small circles. “It’s all we could think of to grab their attention, but I didn’t realize she’d sound so, uh....”

“It’s okay.” Though his heart was still pounding, Saeran rested a hand over the one on his shoulder as reassurance. “I’m just happy to be out of there.”

“Good.” After leaving a kiss on Saeran’s forehead, Yoosung urged him toward the staircase leading out of the bunker. “C’mon, let’s get going before they come looking for us.”

The February afternoon was cool and bright, the nearly-cloudless sky an icy blue. Immediately this fresh air cleared Saeran’s head as he took a slow inhale, eyes closed, beginning to fully relax. Spring was still a ways off. Still, there was something sweet in the air, a freshness he’d missed. Not until he opened his eyes did Yoosung urge them onward.

“Ready to walk?”

“Yeah.”

They joined hands and stepped onto the sidewalk.

This was a familiar walk for both of them, but it had been more than a few months since they’d gotten the chance to take it. Between Yoosung’s finals, his apartment hunting, and starting his new job, their lives had been under so much stress. But things were slower now. Saeran found himself paying more attention to this walk than ever. Not only to his surroundings, the parked cars and cracked pavement and cozy-looking homes, but to the feeling of Yoosung’s hand in his. He’d really missed this.

“Thanks again, by the way,” Yoosung said softly. “For coming to my graduation.”

Saeran shrugged, feeling a little embarrassed. “You don’t have to thank me for that. Any good boyfriend would’ve gone.”

“Still,” Yoosung said. “I know it was hard for you.” He smiled, squeezing Saeran’s hand. “But it made my whole day. As soon as I saw you, I wanted to drop everything and just run over and give you the biggest hug.”

“You did that anyway. Remember? You almost made me drop your flowers.”

Yoosung laughed. “I didn’t! I waited until _after_ the ceremony. It was the longest hour of my whole life.” After a short pause, he continued. “I’m so happy we’re taking this walk. I love the party, and I’m glad to see my family, but it’s been so long since you and I could just....”

“Yeah.” Saeran knew.

Yoosung’s voice got soft and serious. He glanced at Saeran from the corner of his eye, a sad smile on his face. “I missed you.”

Biting his lip, Saeran nudged Yoosung with his elbow. “You’ve talked to me every day.” But then he got closer, letting their upper arms touch as they walked. “I missed you, too, though.”

After a while they reached the foot of a trail that would lead into a familiar park. Exchanging a glance of silent agreement, they stepped off of the sidewalk and headed in. The trees were still bare after a long winter, but the branches looked pretty anyway, outstretched against the pale blue sky. Yoosung gestured as they passed a certain park bench. “Hey. Do you remember? That’s the first place we held hands.”

Saeran frowned.  “I was just thinking it's the first place I made you cry.” It was a memory he'd held against himself in a few of his darker moments. “Ugh. I was a huge jerk that day.”

“You weren't,” Yoosung said. “You were actually really sweet.”

“You think?”

“Mm-hm. I was really happy when you held my hand. I had a big crush on you, you know.”

Saeran bit back a grin. “... Me too.”

They strolled through the small, completely deserted park idly, no particular destination in mind. The dirt trail took a twisted path around the plot of land, under trees and across long stretches of freshly-cut grass. Yoosung and Saeran followed it in a full loop, then started again. There was a gentle breeze in the air, no sound except for the rush of far away cars and the gentle crunch below their feet.

Saeran tried to hold onto this feeling of calm. If he could rejoin the party in this state of mind, there was a chance he could stop hiding in the corner, have a couple conversations, maybe even pretend to enjoy them.

The park bench came into view a second time. Yoosung squeezed Saeran’s hand, then broke their minutes-long silence. “We’re here again.”

Saeran was too distracted to notice the tremble in Yoosung’s voice. He responded absentmindedly. “Mm-hm.”

Yoosung stopped walking and Saeran followed suit, turning to face him. “What’s the matter?” He searched Yoosung’s face, trying to decipher this tense expression. It was something he barely recognized.

Biting his lip, Yoosung glanced around the park. “Nothing! I’m just....”

“Just?”

Yoosung turned back to him, smiling nervously. “We’re alone.”

Saeran tilted his head, saying nothing, to which Yoosung released a stilted laugh.

“Sorry,” he said. “I, um.... S-sorry. I said I’d wait until after I graduated, but I know this isn’t....”

Saeran blinked. “Yoosung?”

“This isn’t....” And then he let go of Saeran’s hand, dropping to one knee in front of him. “I just... really couldn’t wait anymore.”

 _Oh_. A sort of lightheadedness clouded Saeran’s vision as he realized what was happening.

Yoosung knelt on the ground, looking shy and eager and, Saeran thought fleetingly, so damn handsome in his white shirt. He slid a hand into his pocket, then quickly took it back out as if changing his mind. After a moment of shuffling his hands and straightening his hair, Yoosung looked Saeran in the eye.

“I love you,” he said, already tearing up. His voice was shaking, but it had this resolve. A timid kind of confidence. “S-so much, Saeran, and I....” Yoosung laughed dryly. “Sorry, I had a- a whole speech planned, and suddenly I just can’t....”

Saeran opened his mouth to give reassurance, but he found that his voice was caught in his throat. Apparently he was speechless.

“Can’t remember....” Yoosung shook his head. “U- um. Saeran, I wanted to say that the years we’ve been together have been the best of my life. I can’t believe I get to be this happy.”

He took a pause here, wiping stray tears from his eyes. Saeran offered a tiny nod, hoping it sent him any reassurance at all.

When Yoosung continued, his voice was more strained. “I love you so much. And y- you’re so... strong, and you... _crap_.” He forced a laugh, although Saeran could tell he was seriously frustrated. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Saeran finally managed to say, laughing softly. “I get it.”

Yoosung finally dug into his pocket, producing a small black box and clenching it in his hands. Staring at his knuckles, Yoosung continued shakily. “All I’m trying to say is that I can’t imagine the rest of my life without you by my side. And I f- finally feel like I can be the husband you deserve. If... if you’d stay with me, I promise you’ll never regret it. I’ll work hard to be everything you could possibly want.”

“Yoosung...,”Saeran breathed, clenching his fists into his sweater. There was much more he wanted to say, but the words wouldn’t come in time.

“So please,” Yoosung said, readjusting the box in his hands and popping open the lid. “Will you marry me, Saeran?”

Saeran was on his knees before he could answer the question, arms wrapped around Yoosung’s shoulders, face buried in his neck. Standing felt like a chore, his legs were weak and trembling and all he really wanted was to hold Yoosung in his arms, to cry into his shirt and feel close to the man who had his heart on a string.

Voice quivering, Saeran remembered at least to respond. “Yes,” he said softly. “Of course, Yoosung.”

Still sniffling, they managed to pull apart long enough to deal with the ring. Saeran finally got a good look at it: a plain silver band with one small inset diamond.

“I hope it's okay,” Yoosung said. “Your sister-in-law helped me pick it out, because I probably would've gotten something too... uh, tacky?”

Saeran nodded. “It's fine. It's perfect.”

With trembling hands Yoosung pushed the ring into his finger and they stopped for a moment to look at it. Saeran was glad that Yoosung had taken the modest route, but even then, this ring was so far from anything he'd ever imagined himself in. It was so grown up. Something beautiful and mature and oddly heavy.

It would take some getting used to. But like the graduation party, it was the kind of getting used to that Saeran found he really wanted.

He didn’t have long to look at the ring before Yoosung was kissing him softly, the corners of his mouth damp with tears. Saeran put his arms back around Yoosung’s shoulders and leaned into the kiss. Yoosung’s lips were soft and eager. Buzzing with need and excitement but still vaguely aware of their surroundings, Saeran forced himself to break away.

“We should....” He laughed dryly. “We should move.” They’d been on their knees in the middle of the dirt path, out in the open.

“Oh! Right.” Yoosung stood up first so he could lend Saeran his hand, helping him onto his feet. “Want to sit down for a bit?” He pointed to the bench a small distance away.

“Y....” Saeran’s voice broke. “Yeah,” he managed, his chest and throat still tight.

The couple arranged themselves on top of the bench seated side-by-side, and Yoosung wasted no time in leaning his head on Saeran’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around his waist. “I’m so happy,” he said with a shuddering sigh. He nuzzled his head in slightly, tickling Saeran’s cheeks with wisps of his hair. “Sorry for gushing. I’m just so, so happy.”

“Mm.” Saeran rested his cheek on the top of Yoosung’s head, staring at the sky. “I’m happy, too. I’m glad you didn’t wait.”

Yoosung laughed nervously.

“What?”

“N- no, it’s just....” He tensed up a bit. “I’ve been carrying the ring around all day. When I saw you at graduation, I came so close to taking it out then. _So_ close.”

Saeran remembered the way Yoosung had looked at him after the ceremony, eyes soft with love and pride. His hands had been shaking, like he was totally bowled over with happiness. Of _course_ he’d thought about it then. “You dork,” Saeran whispered.

“I know! My sister is the only one who knew I was going to do this today, and I think she could tell what I was thinking? I caught sight of her with this expression like... _don’t you freaking dare_.” He laughed again, but Saeran only bit his lip.

“You were really that eager?” he asked, his voice soft.

The arms around Saeran’s waist squeezed tighter. “God, yes,” Yoosung said. “I’ve been having stress dreams all week. Logically I knew you were going to say yes, but that didn’t stop me from having nightmares where you turn me down or, uh....”

Saeran tilted his head. “Or?”

“ _Ummmmm_.” He sounded nervous, but Saeran could hear a smile in his voice, too.

“Tell me,” he said, lightly poking Yoosung’s side. “What did you dream about?”

Yoosung curled back from the poke, giggling softly. “Um. There was one where you got engaged to Zen instead? Don’t laugh!”

Saeran stiffened, eyebrows furrowing as he processed that thought. Then he raised his voice. “What the hell?”

“I know, I know!” Yoosung’s expression was already hidden from Saeran’s view, but he put a hand against his face anyway. “It’s not like I was afraid of that for real. I’ve just been so nervous. I always....” He paused, then continued in a softer voice. “I’ve always been afraid to lose you to someone else.”

The sincerity that statement that made Saeran pause. “Yeah,” he said weakly. He couldn’t argue with it. Saeran ran a hand through Yoosung’s hair. “Yeah. I know that feeling. But now we don’t have to be afraid of that, right?”

Yoosung’s squeeze tightened again. “Yeah. I feel so relieved.” He released one arm from Saeran’s waist and used it to take his hand, examining the ring once again. Yoosung held Saeran’s hand delicately, flipping it over, looking at it from all different angles. Then he intertwined their fingers, and Saeran found himself relieved that holding hands didn’t feel uncomfortable with the obstruction of the ring.

Yoosung’s voice became a whisper. “We get to grow old together.”

A few years ago, Saeran couldn’t have even imagined his late twenties, much less the rest of his life. The future still had an uncomfortable ambiguity. But Saeran could imagine himself alive now, and more than that, too. He could imagine himself growing plants on the windowsill of a house that wasn’t three stories deep. He could imagine watching his nephews enter Kindergarten, middle school, high school, with all the love and support two twin boys could ever need. He could imagine traveling with his brother, something they’d been talking about more and more this year. He could imagine sharing every day of his life with Saeyoung, MC, the twins, and... his husband. And maybe a couple of dogs? Or some cats. Cats sounded nice.

“What are you thinking about?”

Saeran realized then that Yoosung had lifted off of his shoulder, was now watching his face intently. Saeran smiled. He opened his mouth to answer, but it was hard to think of the right words. He got the feeling his voice would betray him again, anyway. So instead Saeran put his arms around his fiance and held him close. They stayed on the park bench until the evening turned cold.

 

 

 

 

Just outside the entrance to the bunker, Yoosung paused. “How long do you think it’ll take them to notice?”

Saeran considered it for a moment. “Will they notice at all if we don’t tell them?”

“It’s kind of a big silver ring. I think it’s hard to miss.”

“Most people don’t look at me as closely as you do.”

Yoosung laughed. “Okay, that’s fair. But I give them like an hour, tops.”

“Two hours,” Saeran decided. “And it’ll probably be Saeyoung who notices.”

They opened the door and walked into the bunker, passing through the entrance and emerging into the living room. As soon as they appeared, the room fell silent. The party guests, mostly seated on the couches or the floor with drinks or food in hand, all turned toward them in unison. And then MC jumped off of the floor and pointed at Saeran’s hand. “I was totally right!”

Almost involuntarily, Saeran stepped behind Yoosung, gripping his arm, ready for an onslaught of questions and congratulations. Instead, most everyone seemed focused on MC as she took the phone out of her back pocket and tapped something on-screen. “Okay, that means me, Zen, Jaehee, Mrs. Kim, Sungmin, and Miyoung all split the winning pool. Everyone else, pay up!”

Yoosung looked back and forth as the room stirred, almost everyone drawing wallets out of their pockets. “What’s going on? Winning pool?”

Frowning, Saeran rested a hand on his side. “They placed bets on us, Yoosung.”

“Huh?”

Before Saeran could explain further, they found themselves bound together by another set of arms, pulling them into a hug. “I’m so happy!” Saeyoung said, squeezing them tighter. “You guys cost me forty bucks, but I don’t even mind because I’m _soooo happy_.”

Yoosung tried, and failed, to wiggle out of Saeyoung’s grasp. “You bet forty dollars that I wouldn’t propose?! I asked for your blessing _three weeks ago!_ ”

“I didn’t think you’d do it today!” Saeyoung finally let them go, but he rested his hand on his brother’s head, nuzzling his hair as he addressed Yoosung. “I was on Team They’re Just Making Out Somewhere. Your dad thought you got lost? He told us all about the time you got lost in the supermarket as a kid and-”

“Stop!” Yoosung put his hands over Saeyoung’s mouth. “Stop stop stop don’t tell Saeran that story _pleeeeease,_ Saeyoung.”

“All right, all right!” Saeyoung said, pulling Yoosung’s hands away but quickly giving his brother a look that said _we’ll discuss that later_. Saeran barely caught it before he felt a tug at his wrist and turned to see Zen and two of Yoosung’s relatives (What were their names...?) trying to examine his ring.

“U-uh,” he stuttered out, too flustered to pull away.

Yoosung jumped in for him, forcing himself in between Saeran and the observers. “Hey, guys, give him some space. You can’t just grab someone like that.”

One of them said something back but Saeran couldn’t hear it, he was gripping Yoosung’s sides with both hands and pressing his forehead on his shoulder. He looked down through half-lidded eyes, and his feet seemed way farther away than they should have. Oh, god. This was getting out of his control, wasn’t it?

“Hey. Honey?” Yoosung’s voice got through to him, but the hands on his shoulders felt like they were barely there. “Do you want to go to the other room?”

Saeran frowned, blinking at the floor.

“... Saeran?” Yoosung was stroking his hair now. “Let’s go to your room.”

“No.” His answer came out automatically. Saeran cast his gaze across the living room, recognizing an empty spot on the couch across what felt like a sea of people. “Let’s sit down,” he said.

Yoosung led him to the couch, the sea of people parting as they passed, seeming to recognize Saeran’s need for space. A part of him felt embarrassed, but it was a small part compared to his desire to just sit and breathe. Saeran sat next to the arm of the couch, and Yoosung sat on his other side. Being closed in on both sides like this made him relax a little. Saeran pulled his legs up to his chest and rested his head again on Yoosung’s shoulder, closing his eyes.

Finally, the guests’ attention left him. Yoosung was fielding everyone’s questions, recounting the story of their afternoon, and either Saeran was dissociating harder than he thought or everyone had lowered the sound of their voices for his sake. Saeran knew that he must’ve looked pathetic, a grown adult clinging to his partner’s side in a crowd full of people.

But if this was the best he could be, it would have to be enough.

After a while, when things had calmed down more, Saeran felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. He cringed at the feeling, but relaxed when he turned to see Yoosung’s mom knelt beside the couch, holding a piece of cake on a paper plate out to him.

“It’s ice cream cake,” she said. “Yoosung insisted we get one because it’s your favorite.”

Saeran smiled, rubbing his eyes with one hand as he took the plate from her. “Thank you....”

She put a hand on his forearm, gently enough that he didn’t flinch this time. “Welcome to the family, Saeran,” she said, and he felt his heart swell.

When Saeran turned back around, Yoosung was still busy chatting with a smaller crowd of people. This time, as Saeran nibbled on his cake, he watched their exchange and tried his best to follow it. The discussion had wandered away from their engagement and into a discussion of Yoosung’s new apartment. Saeran knew everything Yoosung had to say about it (he’d helped him pick it out, helped him move in earlier in the week), but it still felt good to listen to the sound of Yoosung’s voice, hear the observations he made, listen to him laugh at a couple of his own jokey comments.

Saeran really loved him. The thought popped into his head, and it made him feel a little silly. Of _course_ he loved Yoosung. They were engaged now, if that wasn’t evidence enough.

Still, it was the truth. And as reliable as the truth was, it wasn’t the same as it had always been. It was a truth that kept evolving and changing and growing. He wondered, is that what it means to grow old with someone? Not long ago it had been hard enough to picture himself alive in twenty years, and even harder to picture himself with a love still preserved from a time when he’d been young and afraid. That thought had scared him for so long.

But so far, his love had only changed along with him. It was scary and reassuring all at once.

“Saeran can agree with me.”

He refocused at the sound of his name, and Yoosung had turned to him, smiling softly.

“Back me up. The bathroom in my new apartment is definitely haunted, right?”

“Oh yeah,” Saeran agreed. “The sink turns on in the middle of the night.”

One of Yoosung’s relatives laughed. “Are you sure that wasn’t just your boyfriend pranking you?” The other listeners joined in on his laughter, but Yoosung frowned.

“No way! My _fiance_ is way too sweet to do something like that.” He rested a hand on Saeran’s thigh, squeezing softly.

Saeran took an extra large bite of cake to disguise his smile.

 

 

 

 

When the party was over well into the night, Saeran accompanied Yoosung back to his new apartment. Yoosung had been leaning on his shoulder the entire bus ride home, apparently exhausted, but the second they closed the front door behind them his attitude changed.

Yoosung pressed Saeran gently against the door, kissing his neck. “Come to bed with me.”

“I thought you were tired,” Saeran teased, shuddering a little at the feeling of Yoosung’s teeth on his bare skin. It was nice.

“Only a little.” Yoosung pulled away, giving Saeran a serious expression. “Are _you_ tired?”

He smiled. “Only a little.”

“Then let me do everything,” Yoosung said as he pressed their foreheads together. “I just want to make you feel good.”

Saeran swallowed hard, frankly amazed that such a sappy comment could turn him on. “Okay.”

In the bedroom they undressed quickly, Saeran fumbling with the buttons on Yoosung’s shirt before they were even in bed. He broke away long enough to climb backwards onto the mattress, scooting away from the edge. Yoosung straddled Saeran over his hips, pulled off his sweater, and pushed him gently onto his back, leaning down to suck at the exposed skin on Saeran’s neck and shoulders.

“I wanted you all day, Saeran,” he said between kisses. “I wanted you so bad.”

Saeran’s back arched slightly as Yoosung found a sensitive spot at the crook of his neck. “Y- Yoosung...,” he whimpered out. He tugged at the collar of Yoosung’s shirt, pulling him up until Saeran could kiss his lips, returning to the buttons of his shirt. Saeran kissed him eagerly as he undid each button. With Yoosung’s chest completely exposed, he dragged his hands up his torso, sinking fingers into his skin until they reached his shoulders, crept further up the back of his neck, tangled in his hair and tugged hard. Yoosung gasped against Saeran’s lips. Letting go of his hair, Saeran took the collar of Yoosung’s shirt and, in one movement, pulled the garment down his body, sliding it off of his arms, and dropping it on the bed beside them.

Yoosung shivered as the cool air hit his body. He pressed his torso against Saeran’s for warmth, but broke their kiss, looking at him with soft eyes.

“Saeran,” he whispered, running his fingers through tangled curls of his fiance’s red hair. “Saeran.”

“Mm?”

Yoosung released a shaking breath, dismissing the inquiry with the tiny shake of his head. “I’m just so....”

He moved down Saeran’s torso, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down his skin, stopping here and there to suck lightly, to nip at an area with his teeth. Saeran panted heavily with his head thrown back, fists tightly wound around Yoosung’s hair. His eyes were squeezed shut as he focused on every tiny movement, on the whisper of pleasure he felt each time Yoosung brushed against the crotch of his pants. Yoosung halted above Saeran’s waistband, running his tongue down the sensitive patch of skin below his belly button.

“ _Please_ , Yoosung.” He begged softly, his fists tightening around Yoosung’s hair.

Yoosung wasted no time in unbuttoning Saeran’s pants, pulling them down along with his underwear and tossing them onto the floor, leaving Saeran’s legs and his cock bare, exposed for Yoosung to do whatever he liked. For now Yoosung worked slowly, drawing a hand up Saeran’s thigh, pausing each time Saeran twitched or whimpered in anticipation, seeming to delight in how worked up he was getting. He’d promised to do all the work, but that didn’t mean he would go about it quickly. Yoosung wanted to enjoy drawing out every labored reaction, like collecting evidence of how thoroughly he was wanted.

When Yoosung finished the agonizing journey up Saeran’s thigh and gripped the base of his cock, Saeran’s exhales had turned into strained moans, his inhales sharp and vocal. Nowadays Saeran could hold back these noises if he tried. But he rarely tried, knowing how much Yoosung loved it, how the audible feedback made him try that much harder.

Saeran’s voice cracked when Yoosung started slowly stroking his cock, drawing him so slowly into a fevered state of bliss. Too slowly. Saeran bucked his hips once, twice in frustration, but Yoosung only got slower until he’d crawled to a stop, his grip loosening, and Saeran’s eyes fluttered open so he could search the blank expression on his face.

“Yoosung?” He tried to sound soothing, though his breath was still coming out heavy. “Is something wrong?”

And then Yoosung looked up at him, eyebrows furrowed, a crooked smile on his lips. “I remembered what I was going to say earlier.”

Saeran blinked.

“... When I proposed to you, I mean.”

He tilted his head, staring incredulously. “And?”

“Do you want to hear it?”

“I.... _Now?_ ”

“Yeah,” Yoosung said, crawling back up Saeran’s body but leaving one hand on his erection, tightening his grip teasingly. “Now.”

Saeran was about to protest, but then Yoosung’s hand was moving again lightly, and he could feel Yoosung’s other hand on his cheek, his breath on his face, and they were looking eye-to-eye as Yoosung smiled, speaking to him in a slow voice.

“What I wanted to say is that every day I spend with you is a day I get to feel special and feel wanted, and that that’s the most I could ever ask for. But you give me more than that, too.” Yoosung’s hand moved up Saeran’s cock so he could run his thumb against the slit, across the slick of precum that he spread teasingly in small circles. Saeran’s breath caught in his throat.

“You make me feel like a better man. Like I can do anything if you’re there, cheering for me. And even at my worst, I can always rely on you, in every way.”

Saeran threw his head back as Yoosung stroked faster, matching the rhythm of his rolling hips, and it took all of his concentration to hear the rest of what Yoosung had to say.

“I know you doubt yourself, Saeran, but you’ve always been strong for me when I’ve needed you. Since we’ve been together, there’s never been a moment of weakness or pain when I haven’t....” Yoosung huffed, affected by a particularly needy moan sounding through Saeran’s lips. “Th-that I haven’t been c-caught by you, and convinced it would all be okay.”

Saeran whined loudly. Yoosung’s hand was no longer enough, he wanted more, needed more.

“You’re so strong,” Yoosung breathed. “Let me always be strong for you. Let me be everything you could possibly want.” He exhaled shakily, then recovered. “What is it that you want, Saeran?”

“ _You_.” Saeran moaned desperately, his voice quivering. “Just you, you, you, you’re all I could ever want. _Please_.”

Yoosung chuckled weakly, getting onto his hands and knees. “You’re making this so easy for me.”

There was a pause as Yoosung dug through the bedside drawer, and Saeran used the opportunity to catch his breath. Eyes closed, he listened to the shuffling fabric of Yoosung removing his pants, the tiny clack of a bottle of lube opening. He felt Yoosung push back his spread legs for access, and after a tiny pause that was always slightly agonizing, felt the cold substance meet his entrance.

Yoosung slid in a finger and another one right after it, hooking them immediately to press the soft spot that had Saeran feeling hot and light and needing more. “God, _yes_ ,” he moaned.

For a moment Yoosung ignored his prostate to focus on spreading Saeran out, and Saeran opened his eyes to find that Yoosung was staring right at him, face flushed, mouth hanging open.

“You’re so beautiful,” Yoosung said. “I’m marrying the most beautiful person alive.”

Saeran opened his mouth to respond just as Yoosung hooked a third finger against his prostate. “You-- _mmmmmhh!_ ” The intensity of it had him whining, legs frozen and trembling fiercely. Saeran tried to roll his hips against Yoosung’s fingers, force them against that spot again, but Yoosung was already removing them and reaching for the bottle of lube.

“Lie back, sweetie,” Yoosung said, and Saeran realized he’d been jolted onto his elbows. Yoosung spread lube over his cock, half-lidded eyes never leaving Saeran’s face. “Let me take care of you.”

Saeran did as he was asked, lying flat against the bed, pulling up his legs to give Yoosung better access. Then he felt Yoosung at his entrance, pushing in slowly until he was entirely inside. They both paused for a moment, groaning as they adjusted to the fit, before Yoosung started thrusting shallowly, humming with relief.

He was bracing himself with his hands on either sides of Saeran’s waist, head ducked and eyes shut tight as he focused on quickening his pace. Saeran gripped the sheets of the bed, moaning and panting and eventually begging Yoosung to go faster, to which he immediately obliged. Saeran stared at Yoosung’s face, at his contorted expressions of pleasure and desperation. “Yoosung,” he praised, “it’s s- so good.”

Yoosung moaned in response, putting his hands on Saeran’s hips, guiding them onto his cock at an angle that makes Saeran see stars.

“Ahh!” Saeran reached for his cock. He stroked it rapidly, desperate for release, and his other hand moved to rub circles around his nipple. He was so close, heat unfurling in his belly, feeling sensitive in every part of his body.

Yoosung’s eyes flickered open. He got one look at Saeran, hands on his cock and his chest, mouth hanging open as he worked himself so shamelessly, and almost came right there. Instead he reached over, thoughts not fully coherent, and grabbed the hand on Saeran’s chest before pulling it up to his face, pressing Saeran’s ring against his own pursed lips.

This was enough to put Saeran in his grave. Back arched fully, he released a final cry of Yoosung’s name and came completely unraveled. He bucked his hips once, twice, orgasm surging through his body before collapsing onto the bed, breathing heavily. Yoosung came immediately afterwards with a choked groan. He pulled out of Saeran and laid down beside him, too blissed out to think about cleaning up just yet.

Even while they were still recovering, Saeran nestled up against Yoosung’s side, wrapping an arm around his waist.

Smiling softly, Yoosung kissed the top of his head. “Let’s....” He inhaled, slowing down his breath. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“In a minute,” Saeran whispered, but he nuzzled closer into Yoosung’s side and showed no signs of moving.

Yoosung hummed a tiny laugh. He reached for the nightstand, being careful not to disturb Saeran too much, and grabbed a box of tissues beside his alarm clock. “It’s okay,” he said. “I’ve got it.” Yoosung removed a couple of tissues and ran them up Saeran’s stomach, wiping his cum. As he worked, Yoosung planted soft kisses along Saeran’s hairline and the sides of his face.

“Thank you, Yoosung,” Saeran whispered, his voice slurring.

“Don’t fall asleep yet,” Yoosung said. “You’re all messy.”

“That’s fine.” Saeran sighed softly. “I love you.”

Yoosung grinned, his chest bursting with warmth. “All right, all right,” he said. “Go ahead and sleep. I’ll take care of it.” He grabbed a few more tissues.

“Mm,” was all that Saeran said as thanks. He was already almost asleep. Just like that. 

“I love you too, by the way,” Yoosung whispered, reaching to clean between Saeran’s legs. Glancing at the sleepy cutie beside him, Yoosung couldn’t help smiling even wider. What more could he possibly ask for? He only hoped for a million more nights like this one.


End file.
